


I'll let you be

by agamous (apetala)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Star-crossed, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apetala/pseuds/agamous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of coincidences ends with Leo and Cristiano swimming in the Mediterranean sea at the dead of night. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lionel didn’t even have much of a choice in attending the party.

It started with his brother first, insisting that they have a family gathering. He had cold called him in the middle of the season, and without any preamble. Lionel had just stumbled home after a grueling training practice, and his brother knew just when to time his call so that Lionel wouldn’t be asleep.

“It’s been a long time Leo. Maria’s little girl Celia is all grown up, and she just been engaged with a local boy. Good boy too, going to college for engineering. Our mama wants to celebrate, have a big family party for them on Friday.”

Lionel sighed. “Matias, now isn’t a good time. I’m in the middle of training. Rodrigo knows. He and I won’t have another break for another two months at least.” 

Matias laughed. “You think Mama hasn’t thought of that? She’s talked to him first, convinced him to make a break in your schedule. He didn’t like it, but she got her way.”

Lionel shook his head ruefully. “Mama thinks of everything.” He absently rubbed his arm where he’d tattooed her name. Family is everything, he could almost hear her say. 

“But what about our grandparents? Cousins? Will they all be there at Rosario? Won’t everyone else be busy too?” 

“Ah, that’s the thing Leo. We’re going to host it this year where you’re at! You’re a busy man, we all understand. So Rodrigo suggested we all come to Barcelona and celebrate in your house!” 

“What?!” Leo sat on the bed open mouthed. “What….but…Antonella, I have to tell her…we have to plan these things…” 

“No, don’t worry about it! Like I said, mama was very cunning. She talked to Antonella too, and those two women have been plotting behind your back. I heard that the party will be amazing.” 

“Oh...” Lionel began to nervously fuss with his hair for a moment. “…Mama’s not the only cunning one. You and Rodrigo, keeping this from me.” 

“Surprise!” Lionel could almost hear Matias’s infectious smile. “Besides, this will be good for you, seeing everybody again. Maybe meeting some new people too? Celia’s fiancé has friends here, and after the dinner together we have to give him a proper welcome to our family, you know?”

“I know your idea of a proper welcome, you’re going to drink this poor boy to the grave before he can even walk down the aisle, and then mama and Maria will kill you at the same time.” 

“Eh, I’ll take the risk. You only live once brother. You should enjoy it more rather than kicking balls around all the time. No future in that hobby.” Matias teased. 

Lionel huffed with amusement and said “All right, it looks like the lot of you have planned this already behind my back already. I will see you sometime soon?” 

“Very soon Leo! In fact Grandmother and Maria will need someone to pick them up at the airport at six. See you soon brother!” Matias hung up with a click. 

Lionel groaned and fell back on the bed. Typical irresponsible Matias, leaving the important details until the last minute, and then expecting other people to fix it for him. Now his late afternoon of lazing around and watching TV with his sons was shot. Grumbling, he picked up his phone to arrange for someone to pick up his family, and to find a reservation at the last minute for dinner. 

 

It was twelve at night, it was late and the party was still going strong. And Lionel was definitely getting sleepy, it was far later than what was usual for him. 

The dinner was pleasant enough. He got to see Celia again, who had shot up from the awkward gangly teenage girl to the poised and confident woman he had met, introducing her fiancé to everyone arm in arm. The boy had a wide sunny smile and it was clear that him and Celia were deeply in love from the glances they exchanged. And he’d got to catch up with his grandparents, who usually never left their home town of Rosario even. 

It was the after party that was killing him, honestly. He was bored, sipping beer in the corner of the fancy hotel bar that was right by the Mediterranean seashore. His brothers were deep in the middle of a drinking contest with Celia’s fiancé, who was surprisingly holding his own in taking down shots. He might be young, but he was definitely a Rosario boy, and his friends and his brothers’ friends were loudly cheering them on with every shot they took. Matias was starting to look a little smashed, wheeling his arms around as he wildly shouted he would never be defeated by this little beansprout. 

“I have to defend the honor of my niece!” Matias roared. “And a man who can’t hold his liquor is not worthy of our Celia!” Everyone cheered in response so loud that Lionel winced. 

Beansprout responded by laughing and waving the bartender down. “Anything to prove my worthiness of Celia.” 

The bartender approached them with a wary look in his eyes. “Everyone, I must ask you to be a little more quieter. There’s a wedding reception in the ballroom next door, and there have been complaints that they can hear your group.” 

A friend of Matias’s puffed up angrily. “We are only celebrating this man’s engagement! And he’s a personal friend of the Lionel Messi, sitting right here on your counter, and you have the nerve to tell us to calm down!” 

An angry ripple of shouting made the bartender wince, and Lionel felt sorry for him. He was only trying to do his job, and his family and friends were giving him a hard time for it. Lionel raised his hand to gesture everyone to quiet down. “Please, it’s all right. It is late. We shouldn’t be disturbing someone else’s wedding anyways.” 

Matias snorted. “This is my brother for you, too kind hearted for his own good. Come, Leo, you must drink with us too! Celia is your niece too.” 

The group began to raucously cheer, even more lively now that Lionel was involved. A shot of vodka was suddenly pushed into his hands, there were hands on his shoulders, and people shouting him on with glee. He tried to duck his head and politely turn down the drink but his brothers were somehow in his face, grinning with mischief, pushing the glass to his mouth. He choked as he took a inadvertent swallow. The whole bar roared in approval. 

Lionel’s face was burning. He began to turn to ask for water when out of the corner of his eye he saw a new group of people push their way in towards the bar. Someone in the middle of the crush of people with a very familiar walk. He turned to get a second look. 

“Oh, what’s this?” That someone somehow found his way to his side, looking at him with curiosity. “The one and only Messi, out on the town?” 

The bar that was so loud only seconds before grew dead quiet as Lionel Messi looked up to see Cristiano Ronaldo smiling back down at him. 

It was as if time had paused for a minute. No one moved, no one made a sound. There was nothing except Lionel’s sense of abject shock in his chest, and Cristiano standing next to him, regarding him with surprise. Looking at Cristiano’s warm brown eyes, Lionel thought he detected affection, even. 

The moment had stretched too long already. Lionel blinked, and came back to where he was. A hotel bar, in Barcelona, full of watching people, and Cristiano before him. With a small smile he raised his hand to shake. “Cristiano.” He said. “This is a surprise.” 

Cristiano’s smile widened, and he took his hand firmly. “It is for me too. I thought the famous Messi did not care much for going out at night.” 

Lionel shrugged. “It’s a special occasion. My niece is getting engaged, and my family is celebrating tonight.” Cristiano laughed, eyes flashing, his smile so brilliant. With that laugh, the crowd visibly relaxed, and conversation started to flow again. People began to chatter excitedly, trying to get surreptitious photos of the two players at the bar, while others tried to order their drinks all at once from the beleaguered bartender. 

Cristiano gestured to the half full shot glass. “I heard your group celebrating even from the other side of the hotel. Sounds like you are having too much fun.” He teased. 

Lionel laughed. “My brothers certainly are. They forced me into their silly drinking contest as well.” He took a sip in an effort to calm his nerves, flushing with nervousness all the same. He was so awkward and ungainly, especially when next to Cristiano, his greatest competitor on the field. Cristiano in contrast to him, looked debonair and sleek tonight, his bulk not detracting from the slim lines of his dark expensive suit. Lionel couldn’t bring himself to meet Cristiano’s eyes again. 

“Well, in honor of your niece’s engagement, I would like to buy your group their next round of drinks. If you wouldn’t mind?” Somehow Cristiano had slid a little closer to Lionel, looking up at Lionel through his long dark lashes with a smile. His elbow ever so gently made contact with Lionel’s arm. Lionel gulped, feeling the burn of the alcohol on his tongue. 

“My brothers would love that.” Lionel replied back, ducking his head and smiling widely. Probably too stiffly and odd looking too. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t come along tonight expecting to be facing Cristiano and his effortless gracefulness. 

“Would you like that?” Cristiano hadn’t moved his arm at all, and Lionel could feel the warmth emanating from him from that touch. 

He looked up with a burst of bravery. “Yes. I’d like that too.” 

Cristiano smiled, a thing so luminous and gorgeous that Lionel half died of jealousy. The other half was too struck with wonder. 

 

The party was still going strong when Lionel and Cristiano had slipped out of the bar. They were headed towards the sea shore, all because Cristiano had confessed after his fourth shot that he had always wanted to swim in the Mediterranean at night. Lionel had drunkenly clapped him in the back.  
“Cristiano, you are a man with strange dreams, but who are we to question tonight? It was strange enough meeting you like this, and a meeting like this will never happen again in the history of the world. We must go and follow your dreams, no matter how small they are.” Cristiano nearly fell off his seat laughing and denying that his idea was odd. Men had many sorts of dreams over the years, and who was to say that one was too small, or too strange, to be fulfilled?

“If I am eaten by a shark, I will come back to haunt you.” Lionel grumbled as they reached the shoreline. The hotel had its own private beach, but no one else was there at this hour. 

“No shark with sense would try to eat you. If it tried, all I would see is a shark flying out of the water because you kicked it.” Cristiano chortled at his own joke. 

“A shark would choke on your hair gel first before it got to you.” 

“At least I will look good when I die.” Cristiano shucked off his suit jacket, and began unbuttoning his ridiculously tight shirt. Lionel turned to the side to give him some privacy. 

“You call that shirt looking good?” Lionel joked. “There’s an airport somewhere missing its carpet because of you.”

“Hey.” Cristiano finished with the buttons and peeled off the shirt. “I bought this shirt in Milan, thank you for your input of fashion.” 

Lionel eyed Cristiano, his sleek muscular body a perfect balance of bulk and yet trim compactness. “You look better without the shirt then with it.” He said without thinking. 

Cristiano paused to stare up at Lionel. As he realized what he just said Lionel began to stammer “I meant, that….that shirt is hideous…not that I…you’re…” How much alcohol had he drunk at the bar? Lionel had always been awkward, but this was a new low point for him. Accidentally hitting on his old rival? The press would absolutely murder him. 

But Cristiano didn’t look away in disgust or start ridiculing him, as he should have. Instead he broke into a stealthy smile. “Such a smooth talker. You must have a better way with the women then everyone says.” Cristiano’s tone was teasing, without a hint of disgust, and Lionel relaxed. Thank God he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

“I do have a wife. You don’t get two boys without a little finesse.” Sighing inside in relief, Lionel tried to deflect attention from his faux pas. “Now hurry up, it’s freezing out here. Fulfill your dream before my balls fall off from the cold.” 

 

Cristiano looked back at Lionel with what could only be described as a pout. “Aren’t you coming in with me?” 

Lionel began to laugh at Cristiano, this ridiculous man with odd dreams who played football with a ferocious arrogance and looked like a child who had just been told he wasn’t getting a puppy after all. Who knew a thirty year old man could sulk openly in such a way? In truth, Lionel was more than a little jealous. Growing up, he had been the shining hope of his family to claw their way into the comforts of a better life. His whole family, cousins and nephews, were always being told to be more like Leo, more dependable and solid like him, so that everyone could be proud of them. “Even though,” sniggered his older cousins, “Leo is an hopeless ass around people, at least he has his hobby. They say God takes special care of his fools, and Leo’s the proof.” 

That twenty year old memory stung like salt in old wounds that hadn’t ever quite healed. 

Cristiano looked even more hurt while Lionel kept laughing. “What is so funny? Is a comrade in distress so amusing? I am on the brink of achieving my dream at last and now my friend thinks that I am a joke.”

“No, no.” Lionel stopped laughing. “I’m not laughing at you. Well, maybe a little. It’s just your face was so funny before. I’ve never seen a grown man look so much like a baby who didn’t get its way.” 

Cristiano pulled a mock-sad face. “Now you are hurting my feelings. I demand you come in with me as compensation or we must be enemies forever and throw each other to the sharks.” 

“We can’t have that. No shark should be tortured by having to eat you.” Lionel giggled as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the nearest beach chair. 

The full moon was out in the night sky, making the whole sea and coastline visible, in an eerie greylit world. Clouds scudded across the sky swiftly, making the grey light dapple across Lionel’s arms, and Cristiano’s broad back, as they swam in deep in the warm, black waters of the sea. The waters were surprisingly temperate to their limbs, as if drifting in the safety of a bathtub. There was no sound except the turn of the waves on shore, increasingly further away, and the sound of Cristiano and Lionel’s breathing, snaking their way over the dark waters. 

When Lionel began to gasp for every breath, fighting sinking under the waters, Cristiano, who was ahead of him, stopped, and began to turn around. In the strange light like that of an eclipse, he looked like a mythological figure, dark skin glistening bright, and eyes even brighter, catching the starlight, swimming back to him. He came up to about a foot and a half away, and stopped. 

“Are you all right?” Cristiano murmured, voice deep and raspy from the salt. Somehow his voice, breaking the silence of the sea, made Lionel shiver for some reason. It felt like a portent, something inevitable, winging swiftly with a terrible promise, reverberating in this ancient sea that had so many warriors fall to their knees and bleed their life out in the quiet waters.

He never admitted it to anyone, but he had always thought the sound of Cristiano’s voice was striking. Low, dark, and somehow slightly sinful. Like Cristiano knew too well how to use it. 

Leo stared back at him, chin up, wordless, Adam’s apple bobbing in a silent swallow. He was struggling to stay afloat, fighting the sinking. 

Leo saw everything, looking back into the dark sloe eyes of this silent man, of whom the salt had stripped everything, all the pretense and sleight of hands and pretty tricks. Dark, utterly serious eyes. He swam close at an excruciatingly slow rate, still taller than Leo somehow even in the water. 

Leo took a deep breath, inhale, and they were now so close together that the quiet sigh of it echoed on Cristiano’s face, which for a second broke in longing. There wasn’t more than a single handbreadths distance apart between them, their mouths. Cristiano’s mouth was slightly open and full, an unconscious charm. It caught Leo breathless, how open and vulnerable Cristiano was, in the dark when no one else was looking. 

It was inevitable after all. 

How could a Rosario boy, with a lonely childhood, dreaming of a better life in a coast of endless lights and no cruel cousins to laugh at him, resist the boy from Portugal, who grew dirt poor with nothing, fought like a tiger on the pitch, but so easily unfolded like a constellation in the night?

One warrior, to another, laying down their weapons and armor, reaching across dark waters and choking night, to gently press his mouth on the other. It was something strange, never to happen again, under the heavens and over the sea.


	2. Chapter 2

Argentina proves to be the end of them.

They were together on break, essentially hiding from everyone. The hotel was incredibly, unbelievably lavish. Imported Italian marble floors. Bathroom tiles made of sheets of massive Brazilian rose quartz. Thousand count sheets that Leo and Cristiano spoil every night, only to find them tucked into the plush bed the next night, pristine as snow. 

Every night Leo and Cristiano slipped down into a private viewing room, where the floors and walls were made of glass. The hotel was built right on top of the sea, in such a way that the room was submerged in the ocean during high tide, and all sorts of fantastic sea creatures would swim up to the glass, entranced by the lights. There’s sometimes even jellyfish swaying through, luminescent like blue green stars.

Cristiano thought it was fun at first, but it’s been a week, and he’s so thoroughly sick of it that he could throw a chair at the walls.

The thing is, Leo fucking loves this claustrophobic tank show. He mentioned once how he always wanted to go to an aquarium when he was little, but his parents never seemed to find the money for such a frivolous trip. “We didn’t have much back then.” Leo finished quietly, staring with wide eyes tracking a manta ray swoop in circles, to and fro between the warm light and the starkly dark water. 

And Cristiano gets it. How little things that looked so bright when you were young were now so easily in grasp, a snap of the fingers as it were. A miraculous ascent made by sweat and blood and a lot of tears at night. 

But the memory of Leo’s story still makes Cristiano clench his jaw. What does Leo, with his large, very loving family, know about real poverty? What does Leo even know about true sacrifices? Did he ever go to bed hungry, and hiding under the sheets hoping his father wasn’t going to stumble home drunk and wake him up at three? Did he ever find out his mother didn’t even want him? 

Cristiano has met Leo’s family, in passing at award shows, but once for a few hours at a private gathering, memorable for Leo’s grandmother trying to feed him to death (he had to decline as everything was swimming in grease and salt) and Leo’s middle son following him around with big starry eyes. At one point near the end of the night, he turned to see Leo and his father in deep conversation in the corner of the room. Leo caught Cristiano’s eye, blushed and looked down. His father turned to see who Leo was looking at, and saw Cristiano. He looked back at Leo, who blushed even more furiously. Cristiano didn’t even breathe, a pulse of icy fear in his chest. But after a moment, Leo’s father had nodded, and patted his son gently on the cheek. Then walked off to refill his glass. 

Cristiano was at the moment so relieved he could have gone up to Leo and hugged him in front of everyone. But there was also an ugly stab of deep jealousy.

And that’s the problem. Cristiano loves fucking Leo. When Leo blushes, it’s a pink flush that spreads under his clothes, and Cristiano loves chasing it, under shirts and underclothes and sucking angry red bruises on top, with Leo underneath him both choking back moans and angrily telling him to stop, Jesus, does he want everyone to know, he still has to change in front of everyone in the locker room. When his protests grow too strong, Cristiano only has to lean down over him, trapping him with his thighs, and kiss him, until Leo is dark eyed and panting for him. He might tease Leo some more until Leo’s trying to buck him off, trying to land Cristiano on his back, so Leo can hold him down and fuck him. He’s managed it once before. But Cristiano keeps an iron grip on Leo’s hips, shimmying down and snaking a hand between them to adjust angles, all so that Cristiano can spear himself on Leo’s cock as he grinds down, a tight friction that makes Cristiano grit his teeth and Leo shout as if in pain. 

They’ve ruined the sheets every night this whole trip. Despite what people might guess from Leo’s quiet demeanor, Leo is always eager to try new tricks, and is quick to learn. Cristiano has been on the scene a long time, and likes nothing better than to see Leo’s bemused expression when he surprises him.

The only thing is that Leo won’t let Cristiano fuck him. They’ve only attempted it once before, but Leo was too uncomfortable to let Cristiano inside him other than his fingers. Cristiano knows why—once Leo crosses that line in the sand, he can’t deny that he’s attracted to men. He’ll be forced to re-evaluate his life, his place in his family, and his legacy as one of the greatest soccer players in history. Everything would change irrevocably if the world found out he loved cock.

Some times Cristiano fucking hates Leo so much he can’t breathe with the fury of it. 

Leo’s not the biggest he’s ever had. That dubious honor belongs to an unknown gentleman in his Manchester United days, when he’d found himself at someone’s private party, bent over an incredibly expensive white Eames couch while some mouth-breather with a massive cock thrust into him until he was almost raw from the sensation of being used. Once Cristiano had come, he just pushed himself up, got up and left, leaving the other man near in tears with his raging erection. Cristiano used to be smaller then, more gracile, and the men who flocked to him wanted to use him a certain way. Like he was a docile little fucktoy who was a little sportier than most, but still craving a daddy figure to dominate him in the sheets. He’d quickly made a reputation for himself in the London scene as a closet athlete, who despite his doe eyes (and ridiculous frosted tips that were all the rage back then) would run his tops ragged with desperation and humiliation, begging on their knees, before he’d even take a shoe off. 

What Leo is though, for Cristiano, is the hardest lay he ever had to work for. Cristiano’s preference for both men and women is an open industry secret. He’s fucked gorgeous supermodels and then turned around to bend his massage therapist over on the same day. He has definitely gotten to know some of his teammates on more intimate terms, and no one had batted an eye. 

Leo, on the other hand, is as closet as they come. After after the kiss in the sea, Leo and Cristiano swam back to the shore. In the five minutes it took to cross back into sand, Cristiano trudged back on the shore to see Leo changed, shaking with the cold and fear. Pulling on his shirt, he would not stop talking, about how he hadn’t ever done that before, he wasn’t thinking properly, and that he wasn’t attracted to men. This was proven to be patently false, half an hour and a bottle of shared wine later, when Cristiano crowds Leo, using his height to back him into a corner, forcing Leo to crane his head up, wide eyed. Cristiano still gets hard, remembering the taste of him as he came down his throat, Leo’s knees nearly buckling and desperately hanging on to the door handle to stay upright. 

But the taste of him, or the way his cock is just-so curved to fit into Cristiano’s ass and relentlessly thrusts into that oh so perfect spot until it nearly brings tears to his eyes, the way he fits into Cristiano’s arms when they wake up and find themselves inevitably spooning like puzzle pieces cast a long time ago when the universe was young as dew—

It doesn’t make up for the fact Leo is quietly drowning in guilt. 

It doesn’t make up for the fact that Cristiano and Leo have really bad fights sometimes about their careers. Cristiano had read an article on his phone out loud comparing the two players that described Lionel Messi as a ‘tiny hobbit-man’ and Leo was so furious he stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door off an hinge. 

It doesn’t make up for the fact that Leo is ashamed of him. 

 

So one night it finally happens. 

Cristiano is sick of their hotel. He bathes and pisses in a bathroom lined with semi precious gems and where the bathtub has veins of real gold running through it. The staff are discreet and invisible. There are antique Victorian emerald green brocade curtains hanging in the windows. But it’s still a fucking cage and he’s so, so sick of being trapped in it, no matter how gorgeous and tasteful it is. 

So he does throw a chair in the aquarium room, and though he doesn’t leave a dent in the glass wall, he does scare off the manta ray that was always slowly moseying around the room, and he does make Leo, very, very angry. 

Other things get wrecked on the way to the bed. A button, rolls under the bed. A tray of water and ice gets knocked over. It’s so cliché, Cristiano would have rolled his eyes at it, but they knock over an expensive looking vase as well, and it shatters shards all over the floor. No matter. Cristiano picks up Leo by the waist while he’s still shouting, to tumble him back onto the bed. He only pauses to toe his shoes off before climbing on top of him. 

Cristiano really, really wants to fuck Leo right now. But the prep would take forever, and he can’t bring himself to force Leo into this, even if he’s still furious himself. 

What he does is pull hard on Leo’s hair, forcing Leo’s head back into the mattress, making him swallow the angry words on his tongue. 

He leans down to whisper fiercely in Leo’s ear. “Suck me off. Now.” 

He doesn’t have to say out loud the implicit It’s the last time.

Leo is still glaring at him, snapping dark eyes, breathing hard. But he sees something in Cristiano’s face, which makes his face go still. 

Suddenly Leo sits up, taking Cristiano by surprise, grabbing him by the underside of his thighs and lifting up. Cristiano lands on his back, position suddenly reversed, with Leo looking down at him. He stops breathing for a moment, unable tell what Leo is thinking. 

It becomes clear in the next moment, when Leo starts quickly unbuttoning the top of his trousers, unzipping the fly, and frees Cristiano’s cock from his briefs. He’s only semi-hard, the fall softening him up some, but it doesn’t faze Leo as he lowers his head. Without any preamble he starts a brutal pace, hot mouth latching on the head of Cristiano’s cock and sucking so hard Cristiano stutters and sees stars. 

It’s brutal and quick. While Cristiano is fisting sheets and trying not to shout, Leo surprises him by entering him with a well slicked finger. He only does the bare minimum before he’s tugging up Cristiano by grasping underneath his thighs, and breaches him in a violent thrust that makes Cristiano arch in a voiceless scream. 

And soon there aren’t any words at all to be found and Cristiano can’t remember what they were even fighting about because the slide of Leo’s cock in and out of him is so fucking good and he meets him for every thrust, legs bracketing around Leo, ankles grounded on the bed. His body is so used to Leo that it offers no resistance to him, letting him fuck him hard into the mattress, letting himself be utterly taken.

A wicked clench finishes Leo, and he comes with a groan inside of him. 

Cristiano isn’t done though, his cock is still leaking and his peak is so frustratingly on the edge of almost there, his body uselessly spasming around Leo’s cock. The angry pushes on the shoulders must alert him, because suddenly Leo pulls out, making Cristiano hiss, and though he has to be fighting the post-orgasm come down, he bend down to finish Cristiano with his mouth. 

When Cristiano finally comes undone, Leo removes himself to watch. As Cristiano begins to fall back down into his own afterglow, Leo begins to cautiously lap up his come, all over his stomach and thighs. It’s clumsy, and it’s clear Leo doesn’t care for the taste, but Cristiano can’t help but smile a little at the effort. 

Argentina is the end of them, but only the first time.


	3. Chapter 3

Leo never expected running into an ex here.

 

It was a private party and he had only come because his friend was invited, and insisted he come with him.

 

It was pleasant, as much as house parties at night went. Their group had to take their host’s boat out to the private island. Pulling up to the dock of the giant mansion housed nearly right on the beach, the raucous sound of music blared out over the water. People spilling out, chattering excitedly as they entered the doors. Leo was already regretting coming out with his friends. He dreamed about being at home, lights out, in his own bed, as he listlessly sipped at his drink, while his friends lounged around the couches.

 

Leo hadn’t wanted to come, not really. But his friend refused to take no for an answer. “Come on, Leo.” He cajoled. “You’ve not been yourself for the last few months. You never join us at night anymore. Going out for once might cheer you up.” His friend leaned in conspiratorially. “Perhaps things are not so good at home, yes? Where we are going, there will be lots of girls, very beautiful too.”

 

Leo hadn’t realized that people around him had noticed his moroseness. He had thought he had hidden it well. It was the shock of realizing how obvious his moping was that had made him say the fatal yes to his friend.

 

He thought he was coping well. He still trained to his limits. He was an attentive father at home to his two little boys. Antonella and him had separated behind the scenes, but they kept up an easy friendship for the sake of their sons. It had confused his family greatly when they had heard the news. Everyone knew about how fickle football players could be with their relationships, but his family had thought Leo and Antonella were a perfect couple.

 

“What could possibly be missing?” His mother drilled Leo over the phone, after the minute of pure silence when he had broken the news of their separation. “Antonella is a lovely girl, you’ve known each other since children. You’re both from the same hometown, no less.”

 

“These things just happen mama.” Leo sighed.

 

“These things just happen? She gave you two boys. She kept your house perfectly. She’s a good girl, not one of those brash modern things you see bragging about their careers and going to parties every night.” Her voice hardened. “Is there another woman, Lionel? Is that why you’re breaking up your family?”

 

“No. There is no other woman.” Leo replied, truthfully.

 

_There was a man._ Leo wanted to say. _He was beautiful, with dark eyes and dark hair._

_He came from a class that would have made you turn your nose up at him, if you had ever met him._

_His skin was dark from the sun, but in the night, you could always find him against the moon-brightened sheets._

_I wasn’t enough for him, and he left me, and after he left me, I found I couldn’t live a half-truth life anymore._

 

* * *

 

 

Cristiano was occupied with someone new.

 

Well, more than just occupied.

 

Stuffed to the brim was a better description.

 

James rocked into him, one thrust, two. Each roll of his hips drove in a little more each time, a massive pressure inside of Cristiano that made him shudder.

 

Cristiano couldn’t help the breathy gasp from a particularly deep thrust. James bent him nearly in half to capture his mouth, volcanically hot and desperate with need. When Cristiano opened his mouth and kissed back, James sped up his rhythm, the motion of his thrusts almost vicious. His kisses lost control, biting down on Cristiano’s lower lip as he spilled, claiming him.

 

And Cristiano arched off the bed, letting him.

 

Afterwards, James pulled out, painstakingly careful. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, looking up at Cristiano with a dazzling proud smile.

 

Big brown puppy eyes. Almost endearingly innocent for a boy who had just come inside of him just a minute earlier. Cristiano would have teased him for it, if he wasn’t so damn lazy from the afterglow. Instead he patted the bed, signaling James to climb back up beside him. James did so instantly. For a few minutes they simply lay there aside each other, sweat cooling off their bodies.

 

The bedrooms had air of course, but the near-tropical afternoon sun had streamed in through the wide open windows and heated up the room. James liked the fresh air. Cristiano liked that they could be as loud as they liked. Jorge had hosted him and James over a week at his island place, but was out for the afternoon at the mainland, collecting supplies for his house celebration that night.

 

Cristiano turned to James, enfolding him in a heavy limbed bear hug. “You know you don’t have to worry about hurting me. I love it when you do.” He spoke into James ear.

 

James turned bright red, and tried to pull away from Cristiano, who only grinned and tightened his hold, throwing a leg over so he couldn’t escape. “So shy.” He murmured, holding on to James. James groaned and began to struggle, while trying to fight down his laughter. “I have your come leaking out of my hole and you still blush whenever we talk about fucking.”

 

“You’re a bad man.” James laughed, trying to kick Cristiano. “Get off me! You need to go to church and light a thousand candles for your soul.”

 

“I like the sound of that.” Cristiano purred, clinging like a barnacle to James back, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. James kept squirming, but Cristiano’s muscled limbs kept him firmly in place, one powerful thigh locking them together hip to hip. “While the priests are busy lighting all those candles you can blow me in the confessional.”

 

James squeaked. Cristiano couldn’t help his smile, full of teeth and hunger. James was such a sweet thing to the eye and touch, full of adoration for Cristiano, and always trying to catch his eye at practice. It hadn’t taken long to seduce James into his bed. And his newest lover was a mix of what he’d expected (sweetly willing and with the soft pliant skin of youth) and surprises (knew his way with men, liked to top vigorously.)

 

James turned his head around, meeting Cristiano’s gaze. His pupils were blown wide with desire despite the afternoon light. “Be careful, Cristiano. Keep that up, and I’ll want to fuck you again.” He threatened in a whisper.

 

Cristiano smiled back. “Youth.”

 

And then added. “Can we try it on the wall next?”

 

* * *

 

 

It was past one o’clock in the morning, and out of boredom, Leo had taken a desultory shot after shot due to the insistence of his friends. And now he was quite, completely, utterly past the buzz, and into a sloppy drunkenness.

 

There was nothing to do but watch his friends try to make it with some of the girls who were there. Some of the girls on the couch with them were apparently from the same modeling agency, two from the United States and the other from the Czech Republic. None of them had recognized him, thank god.

 

He had gotten up to use the restroom in the place, stopping to ask directions only once from a man who had definitely recognized him but was too high to make any effort to talk to him longer than a sentence.

 

When he exited the bathroom, he found himself in a darkened, cool corridor, floors lined in ice cold marble that froze his bare feet. He frowned. What had he done with his shoes?

 

Reaching out and resting his hands on the glass, he lifted his foot to check. It was clearly shoe-less.

 

Glass?

 

He looked up to see that the corridor was in fact parallel to an outdoor terrace area, in which a swimming pool rested. The corridor was in fact a long series of sliding glass doors. The terrace lights were on, lighting up the lush garden ringing around the water and making the pool glimmer aqua in the light.

 

Leo wanted to swim. But he had no swimming clothes.

 

Did it matter? At least he didn’t have shoes on. That meant he wouldn’t have wet shoes when he got out. That was sensible.

 

Swaying, Leo opened the glass door, and walked outside, the air cool and breezy against his flushed face. The wind smelt like the sea around them.

 

He smiled at that. The sea was a good memory. The moon silvering the water. The taste of salt. The taste of another man’s mouth.

 

Leo stumbled over the pool steps, and ended up sinking nearly to his neck in the water. He blinked as he began to sway his arms around. Turning in circles. Arms still wearing long sleeves. Hadn’t he taken off his clothes before going in? Now he was going to stink like chlorine when he got back. But at least the water was nice and warm, a heated pool, and it was nice, swimming careless laps around the water, except this water wasn’t right, it was too still and too bright, it should have been dark and loud with the surf---

 

Shoes. Leo was staring at some shoes, at his eye level. Were they his shoes? No they were not. Leo didn’t wear orange shoes with a yellow stripe through them, carelessly tossed on their sides. Most people didn’t wear shoes that color. Most people had taste in picking shoes.

 

Leo lifted himself out of the pool, to stare at those ugly shoes. He had reached a bend in the pool, where it curved around in a horseshoe shape. He couldn’t see to the other side of the pool, because of the garden and trees in his way. He thought he could hear the sound of water rushing though.

 

Leo sat down and slid back down to swim. The air was cold, coming out of the heated water like that. Plus his legs didn’t feel too coordinated.

 

Leo swam. And kept swimming.

 

He wasn’t swimming straight, but he was clearing around the bend. Sort of. Somehow he’d reached the opposite pool wall.

 

He cleared the bend.

 

Leo saw the owner of the ugly shoes.

 

He only knew one person, after all, capable of such horrendous taste in shoes.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, Cristiano and James were interrupted in the middle of their second round by the noise of Jorge’s boat returning to the dock, with people onboard chattering loudly. Cristiano was disappointed, but after all it was Jorge’s party, and they cleaned up in a hurry to meet him and start their celebrations.

 

Later on in the night, James after two mixed drinks had lit out into the foyer where everyone was dancing. James was new enough that the scene was still exciting to him, pounding music with bodies moving to rhythm, beautiful people mixed with expensive alcohol. Cristiano however, had taken the opportunity to slip outside, where it was quieter. He really should have been sleeping, as it was late, but he really wanted to wait for James, so that they could finish where they left off.

 

So he found the hot tub, sunken into the red sandstone slates, and after some tinkering, set it to its maximum temperature, turned on all the jets, and sank into the delicious water, letting all the muscles in his body relax.

 

About halfway, he opened his eyes, to peek at the night sky above him. Stars like pinpricks dotting across. The night sky he saw as an adult never could compare to the unbelievable heavens of his childhood, the remote island he grew up on far away from the pollution that plagued the mainland.

 

The sound of splashing interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to look at who it was, floundering around the swimming pool.

 

Cristiano froze in disbelief. Complete shock.

 

He was on an private island, belonging to his friend, a sea between the place and Barcelona, and somehow, still, Lionel Messi was before his eyes. Swimming quite badly in fact.

 

* * *

 

 

Thirty minutes later, Leo found himself sitting by a countertop in the dining room, a bottled water half empty in his hands, and Cristiano pressed next him, who was talking endlessly about how he and Jorge became friends, and all the twists and turns of their friendship over the years. (Jorge? The host of the party? Leo was confused and still a little buzzed, though less so after drinking water.) Other people were there, serving themselves drinks, clumped in small groups and pairs. The night was starting to wind down, but the music was still too loud.

 

When Cristiano had finally wound down his recollections, Leo took the chance to ask “How have you been? What has happened in your life, since…”

 

Cristiano instantly caught his drift. “Since the last time?” He laughed, a low dark sinful sound that strummed a nerve deep in Leo’s belly. He remembered other times, past times when Cristiano would laugh like that, in the silence of their darkened room, a private thing just for him.

 

“Yes.” Leo managed.

 

Cristiano shrugged. “I keep playing. I am a father to my son. I signed more contracts. My life goes on well.” He smiled. “Reporters keep asking me what I think of you. It’s hard not to tell them sometimes.”

 

Leo swallowed. “What would you tell them?”

 

“That the Lionel Messi I know is almost as good as me, and perhaps if he keeps practicing, he might be as good.” He paused. “And also that while he might be short, his cock is not.”

 

There was a crunching noise, and Leo looked down to find his hand gripping the water bottle in a fist.

 

Cristiano laughed again, only this time not nearly so nice. “What did you expect me to say? That I am dying inside for your love? I loved it when you fucked me in hotels while treating me like shit on your shoes in public?” He inclined his head to the side. “Oh? Maybe that there’s only been one man for me, baby, and it’s you?” He crooned mockingly.

 

Leo could hear his heartbeat roaring in his ears. It stung. He deserved every word, but it _hurt_ , to have Cristiano so vicious.

 

“Have you been with other men?” He asked, voice sounding oddly strangled and furious to his own ears.

 

Cristiano turned to look the other way for a moment, and Leo followed his gaze. He couldn’t deny the surprise he felt when he saw James Rodriguez in the room next over, talking animatedly with other people as they were playing pool.

Cristiano turned back to look at Leo. There was a moment of perfect silence.

 

“Have you been fucking that boy?” Leo asked.

 

Cristiano raised his eyebrows but remained silent.

 

Leo’s expression darkened. He leaned forward.

 

“Has he been fucking you?” He growled.

 

Cristiano leaned forward, their faces suddenly close. A strong hand settled over Leo’s neck, squeezed tightly, held him in place as Cristiano hissed.

 

“Do you really want to know, Leo? Do you really? He bent me over the bathroom sink the other night and had me until I cried. I wore a pretty pair of lace La Perla underwear that he pulled down to my ankles, then wiped himself in after. I wore them underneath my suit when we went to dinner, and walking into the restaurant I was sure that everyone knew what I had done. Then when I went to use the restroom, he followed me in, dropped to his knees and licked me clean. I didn’t let him leave until every inch of the lace was spotless again.”

 

Cristiano stopped, to lick his lips, and breathed hotly over Leo’s ear. “And you know what the best part was?”

 

“He wasn’t ashamed of who he was. And he wasn’t ashamed of me.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was bright outside. Leo opened his eyes groggily. For a moment, he was completely unmoored and confused. Where was he? He had awoken in an unfamiliar room, far too big, the walls a bright, heartless white that reflected the sun coming in through the French doors and ruthlessly worsening his headache.

 

And then he remembered. He was at a different house, on an island. He’d been there for a party. And then he’d met Cristiano again, in the most unbelievable coincidence possible. And then Cristiano had whispered words in his ear that had torn him up inside in the most appallingly quiet way. After Cristiano had left him, getting up abruptly and walking out, Leo had sat there at the counter, speechless. He hadn’t the heart to move, and he hadn’t the head to drink more. Eventually he’d somehow wandered his way into a bedroom that was quiet enough, rested his head on the covers, and just let a state of thoughtless emptiness take over.

His mouth felt lined with sandpaper. His eyes ached at the ruthless brilliance of the sun, and he got up to snap the curtains shut. He was also incredibly thirsty.

 

Leo meandered out into the hallway, looking for the kitchen. The house was now completely silent, cups and clutter strewn everywhere. He nearly tripped over someone’s leftover shoes in the doorway, one rose red heel broken. But he was in the kitchen, and fortunately the room was shaded too, lights off and cool like a cave, accentuated in granite.

 

Leo found a clean glass in the Ceylon satinwood racks, and poured himself water from the fridge. After his third cup, his thirst abated. He still felt out of sorts, nervous with energy. Like there was something he had to do, before he left.

 

Somehow, he knew, even though the whole night was absurd and had ended so badly, that when he walked back outside, wandering in a well-tended garden with waterfalls of bougainvillea and tea olive, the sea surf gentle in the air, that there was nothing else but to see Cristiano again.

 

There was no other choice, no other way. His feet knew the way to him before his head even thought of it. He saw him, in the distance, leaning on the wall that lined the edge of the property, beyond which was a beach.  Barefoot, Leo made his way silently over to the taller man’s side, who was standing on the grass, looking out towards the sea. Cristiano didn’t turn or otherwise acknowledge his presence, who gingerly settled on the wall a good five feet from him.

 

A good minute of silence, as they both watched the surf come in. Not the heavy silence of standoff like last night.

 

“I’m sorry.” Leo said.

 

Cristiano turned to look at him.

 

“You were right.” Leo added. He took a deep breath, and plunged on.

 

“When we were together, I was afraid and full of shame. But not because of you. Because of what I had done.”

 

Cristiano didn’t reply, simply staring at him. Still waiting.

 

“I…you were the first man I’d ever been with. And I couldn’t believe it. That I could forget my girlfriend so completely. That I was in fact a man that wanted other men. That I was now something I could never tell my family about. And that such a beautiful man could want me.” Leo sighed.

 

“I’m not good with words. But you have to know that I never intended to hurt you. That knowing you was one of the best times of my life. That you’ve made me better. And I wish that my shame had never hurt you as well.”

 

When Leo looked up at Cristiano, he saw him looking back towards the sea. The air was warming with the scent of grass and jasmine.

 

When Cristiano finally spoke, his voice was even. “I heard you and your girlfriend have split.”

 

Leo nodded once, slowly. “It was supposed to be private affair.”

 

“Word travels.” Cristiano paused. “Was it because of me?”

 

“No.” Leo replied truthfully. “Antonella and I…we were together because we thought we should have been together. Ever since we were kids. Our parents picked us out first. Same hometown…our families knew each other…I don’t regret our time, and I don’t regret my boys, ever, but we didn’t really know each other. I didn’t know myself.”

 

“When I first saw you, I thought you had made your way here only for a reunion fuck.”

 

Leo stared. “What? No, no. I didn’t know you were here. My friends made me come. And how would I have planned nearly drowning?”

 

Cristiano snickered. “You always were a bad swimmer.”

 

“And I lost my shoes somehow. I must have looked like a fool.”

 

“Ah, but there is your flawed assumption,” Cristiano interjected. “You assume that you are not always looking foolish.”

 

Leo couldn’t help the blush that climbed up his neck to his face, and looked down, folding his arms in embarrassment. Somehow they’d clicked so quickly in their easy banter of before.

 

“Anyways, now that you’re here, you’d better call your so-called friends and let them know you’re alive. I’ll have to let Jorge know to come back tonight.”

 

Leo stared. “Sorry?”

 

“Jorge took everyone back to the mainland this morning. People who took their own boat here have all already left. He said he had important business until the evening, but I know he’ll just be celebrating with his friends all day. If I don’t let him know you’re here, he might not even come until tomorrow.” Cristiano quirked a smile watching Leo, who felt dizzy.

 

“…I’m stuck here for the day?”

 

Cristiano smiled. “Cheer up, Leo. Maybe we can find your shoes.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Cristiano wasn’t nervous, but he couldn’t help fussing over the snaps of his garters one more time. He smoothed out the rasp of his black stockings. The fit of them was a dream, contouring around every muscle of his thighs, to the delicate curl of his toes. He especially loved the tiny details of the pair—intricate Chantilly lace fittings and alternating stripes of silk running down the length of his legs.

 

He looked at his reflection critically in the mirror, running a hand over the delicate silk of his underwear, making sure it wasn’t out of place.

 

The only thing left was the final detail. He slid on his gloves, opera length, measured to fit him exquisitely. The fabric slid against his skin like cool water.

 

Now he was ready.

 

* * *

 

 

James was waiting in bed for him, sitting up against the pillows. He looked up with an lazy smile on his face that disappeared as awe lit in his eyes.

 

Cristiano strode in, a lithe walk with only a little swaying from the terrifying tall stilettos he wore.

 

In only a few strides he was in front of James. Poor James, wide eyed and outright speechless. James could only drag his eyes up and down Cristiano’s body, swallowing as he took in the garter belt, the delicate stockings, the black silk underwear that nestled his half hard cock, directly at eye level at James as he loomed over him.

 

Cristiano caught James’ eyes, whose pupils were blown wide open in the soft lamp light. There was a moment of perfect silence between them.

 

Then James exhaled, the sound of it breathy and shivering. And then he slowly leaned forward, placing a tentative hand over Cristiano’s hip line, the softness and warmth striking an answering warmth, low in Cristiano’s belly. James was barely skimming his skin, touching him as if he was delicate as glass.

 

Then James began to nose at the front of his silk underwear. At first it was as delicate as his hand, a barely there touch, more of silk than of skin. James touched him like that, from the very edges of the fabric, on the sensitive inner thigh skin that brought up gooseflesh. Cristiano could feel a hot exhale over the junction where his thighs met together.

 

And James rewarded him, in a sudden movement, opening his lips and mouthing over Cristiano’s silk clad cock. He found the tip of Cristiano’s rapidly hardening cock, and closed his mouth around it and _sucked_.

 

Cristiano yelped at that, but James held him steady with his hand, now holding him still, fingers gripping and kneading his ass.

 

It was _unbelievable_. The friction of the fabric and the searing wet heat of James’s mouth made his cock ache with need. With a fuzzy head, he pushed James off roughly.

 

“Get this off me _now_.” He hissed.

 

James didn’t say a word, but began to quickly undo the snaps of Cristiano’s belt. Cristiano slid onto the sheets when he was done with the last hook, kicking off the heels.

 

Before James could even reach a hand out, Cristiano had nimbly seated himself on James’s hips, effectively trapping him underneath him.

 

“Ready for me already?” James breathed out, smiling up at him.

 

“Hurry up.” Cristiano snarled. “Or I’ll walk out this room right now and find a man who can fuck me till I’ve screamed my throat raw.”

 

To James’s credit, he didn’t say another word, instead yanking down the silk just down his ass, and prepping Cristiano with a brutal shove of fingers, a painful intrusion that had Cristiano clamping down and biting his lip. The pressure already felt too much, and the rhythm was rapid as to burn and at the same time soothe.

 

Soon Cristiano was inhaling quietly on each push, as his body slowly relaxed and submitted to the invasion. He opened his eyes as James suddenly removed his fingers, the emptiness now too much, body clenching around nothing.  

 

The head of James’s cock shoved inside him, and Cristiano now cried out for real, the surprise of it taking his body slack, offering no resistance as James thrust in one slow, excruciating glide, an unrelenting pressure that had him helpless and impaled on his cock.

 

James began to move, before Cristiano’s body had gotten used to it, the fiery pain of being fucked leaving Cristiano with absolutely no thoughts in his head, nothing but the feeling of being filled and used. Cristiano held nothing back, digging his fingers into James’s shoulders and moaning with every stab of his cock.

 

A weight dipped the bed behind him, and a familiar hand slid over his upper chest.

 

“Have you been waiting for me?” Leo whispered with a small smile into his ear.

 

“Not at all.” Cristiano managed, between thrusts. “Did you enjoy your little show?”

 

“Very much.” Leo pinched a nipple, hard. He smiled at Cristiano's gasp. “Now I think it’s my turn.”

 

And with that, Cristiano felt a well lubed finger enter him, alongside James’s cock. James slowed down, opting to piston slowly in and out of him, rubbing against that spot inside until he felt grated raw from the pleasure.

 

By the time Leo entered him as well, it took everything to not scream. It fucking _hurt_ , taking James’s long dick and now Leo’s blunt cock head forcing into his sore hole. Instead of the quick slide in, Leo took forever, every give his body relinquished ruthlessly taken, and the immense pressure forcing tears into his eyes.

 

When Leo was finally fully seated into Cristiano, everyone fully stilled, listening to Cristiano’s rapid breathing, trying to wrest back control.

 

One part of him almost wanted to escape. It hurt some, of course, but the sensation itself of two cocks inside him was very near his physical threshold of too much. All he could do was breathe through it, his body unable to clamp down, all resistance taken away. He inhaled, and exhaled, digging his fingers into Leo's thighs that were bracketing him from behind.

 

Finally he snapped, in a deep rough voice. “All right, move.”

 

Both James and Leo began to tentatively thrust, and the jostling slide was at the same instant far too much, and _holy fuck he needed more_. 

 

Soon Leo was setting the tempo, fucking into the two of them from behind. His hand on Cristiano’s neck pushed him down, plastered on James’s body and forcing his ass up, shackled still with the silk underwear. Cristiano was fully crying out now, no holds barred, utterly crammed to the belly with cock, nowhere to go but to simply take it.

 

And all too soon, all too much, the white hot friction against his prostate with every little movement, and his cock against James’s stomach proved too much and he came blindingly, spilling endlessly over James, all over the silk stockings and underwear, spoiling them utterly.

 

He could hear Leo cursing, and James groaning, then Leo withdrawing. The sudden movement was now definitively too much sensation, involuntarily dragging a moan of protest from Cristiano. James pulled out, far more carefully. Cristiano slid down into the sheets, utterly spent.

 

In his post orgasm haze, Cristiano vaguely saw Leo climbing over James, kissing him hard as he reached down to fist James’s cock. James whimpered as he desperately reached up to touch Leo’s cock as well.

 

James finished first, spurting streaks over the sheets. But he soldiered through, stroking Leo until he spilled over, a few minutes after.

 

 

Cristiano felt rather than heard Leo get up, and walk into the bathroom. He returned shortly with warm towels. He tossed one to James, and walked over to Cristiano. “Turn over, lazybones.” Leo smiled. “You need to clean yourself up.”

 

“You do it.” Cristiano yawned. “I’ve done enough of the work.”

 

Leo scoffed but complied, wiping down Cristiano’s belly and thighs. The warmth of the towel felt amazing. “Finishing first is hardly work.”

 

“You try it next time then.” Cristiano murmured. “James, you alright?”

 

“Yeah.” The younger man was somehow already recovered, perky with wide eyes. “That was amazing. And you looked gorgeous in that lace. But how can you walk in heels that high?” James asked with wonder.

 

“Practice, that’s all.” Cristiano stretched, limber as a cat. “Leo, please go downstairs and get me something to eat.”

 

“What? Get it yourself. You have legs.”

 

“I can’t use them right now. It’s both your fault.”

 

James got up. “I’ll go get it. I’m hungry too.”

 

Leo waved him off. “Don’t get lost.”

 

After James left the room, Leo laid down beside Cristiano. They stayed in a companionable silence for a couple minutes, slowly drifting to sleep.

 

“Cristiano?”

 

“Hm?” Cristiano’s eyelids were irresistibly heavy. Maybe he could nap a little bit before James came back…

 

“Could we do that again sometime?”

 

Cristiano growled drowsily. He muttered irritably, into the pillow “The day I score six goals in one game, maybe.”

 

And they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:
> 
> James comes back with two sandwiches and finds the two dead to the bed. He shrugs, eats both sandwiches and snuggles between them to sleep.
> 
>  
> 
> A friend who is the best in the universe made this reference for lingerie that would fit Cristiano. It was a revelation. A lot of male lingerie on google images are so shoddily designed. 
> 
> [link](http://imgur.com/xqlpUUx)


End file.
